


Technicolor Heart

by alifeasvivid



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Consensual underage, Happy Ending, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifeasvivid/pseuds/alifeasvivid
Summary: ~*!Indefinite Hiatus!*~So it is that the average person, with few exceptions, is born seeing the world in shades of gray until they meet their soulmate, at which point the world floods with color for both of them.It is this truth of life which torments Arthur Jones-Kirkland, who gains the ability to see color at four years old, the moment he lays eyes on his newborn brother, Alfred.





	Technicolor Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for tuning in! I'm super excited about this fic. I couldn't stop smiling for my whole shift when I thought of the concept, so I really hope you enjoy it.
> 
> PLEASE READ: There's probably gonna be a fair amount of triggering stuff in this fic, lots of angst and consensual stuff between two siblings who are minors for most of the fic. Nothing too smutty until they're older though. I'd tag more stuff, but a) I don't know all what's gonna go in this fic yet, I only have a general idea of the trajectory and the written skeleton of the climactic scene and b) I hate spoiling my fics. So please just be advised that this fic is gonna have a lot of sensitive stuff in it and take precautions as necessary. If incest isn't your thing though, please click the back button now.
> 
> Also, this will not be a critique of soulmate au's in which the concept of soulmates is questioned, etc. It's very much taken as a given that soulmates are a real thing and that a person's best chance of happiness is to be with their soulmate.
> 
> That said! I hope you like this fic!

By the time it is discovered that Alfred F. Jones-Kirkland can see color, he is old enough, at six years of age, to at least elucidate that he has always been able to see it, at least, he has been able to for as long as he can remember.

Ordinarily, this would mean that Alfred has already met his soulmate, as almost everyone in the world lives their lives in black and white until the moment they meet the special person meant just for them. On that day, their world becomes vibrant with color.

Almost everyone, that is. There are a few unfortunate people who live their entire lives in shades of gray, but the most recent study done has put this marginalized group at around two percent of the population. Conversely, throughout history, there have been only a handful of individuals who were born seeing the world in color, but they have hardly been luckier than their gray-visioned counterparts as it is often discovered, too late in many cases, that they tend to have serious health complications, usually brain tumors.

Alfred’s parents, both British diplomatic officials working in the United States, upon their discovery of his vision, immediately schedule an appointment with his pediatrician and an optometrist. It seems unlikely that Alfred has already met his soulmate, before he’d even begun to form memories and his parents fear the worst. The optometrist tells them that Alfred needs glasses, but that otherwise his eyes are perfectly normal. The pediatrician shines a light in his eyes, his ears, his mouth, pokes and prods him a bit and concludes that he was a normal, healthy little boy; she then, just on the off chance, refers them to a neurologist.

After discovering that Alfred absolutely despises confined spaces by way of an MRI, the neurologist also concludes that he is, by all accounts, a normal, healthy little boy. Who needs glasses.

From then on, little Alfred’s big blue eyes peer out at the world through frames that are arguably too large for his face which his mother had insisted were cute, but he sees it all in color, just as he always has.

“Maybe his soulmate was in the nursery with him at the hospital when he was born?” his father, Edward, suggests at the dinner table following the neurologist’s report.

This doesn’t quite seem to ease his mother, Elizabeth’s mind. “Yes, but then what if he never finds them again?”

Edward glances over at his son, who is happily gobbling up everything on his plate and seemingly completely ignorant of all the talk of soulmates going on around him. “He’s young still. There’s plenty of time. The most important thing is that he’s healthy.”

Elizabeth nods. “Very true,” she agrees. She has never been so relieved as when the neurologist told them that the results of all their testing came back normal.

“May I be excused?”

Elizabeth looks over at her elder son, Arthur Jones-Kirkland. She smiles and ruffles the ten year old boy’s hair. “Arthur, dear, you’ve barely touched your potatoes… or your broccoli. I thought you liked broccoli.”

Arthur glares over at his younger brother who is still shoveling food in his mouth. “I’m not hungry,” he said simply. “I ate all of the meat. May I please be excused?”

“Five more bites,” Elizabeth says firmly. Her son’s eating habits are beginning to worry her somewhat. He is eating less and losing weight, which is not something a normal ten year old should be doing.

Arthur hastily scarfs down two florets of broccoli and three tiny forkfuls of mashed potatoes and then bolts from the table.

It is only then that Alfred looks up from his plate. “Where’s Arfur?” he says with a mouthful of food.

Elizabeth’s gaze is cast in the direction of the staircase her oldest son had just ran up. “He wasn’t hungry, dear. And don’t talk with your mouthful please, Alfie.”

“Oh,” Alfred says, is quiet for a moment and then see Arthur’s half-full plate. “Can I have his?"

Upstairs, Arthur carefully shuts the door to his room. He wants to slam it, but he knows from previous experience that that will make his father come upstairs and ask him what’s wrong… and he is fast running out of viable excuses.

He throws himself on his bed and sobs softly. This has become an almost daily occurrence over the past two years. Not a day goes by that Arthur isn’t reminded of his terrible secret since he had discovered he even had it. He clenches his green eyes shut tightly as the tears flow freely. He remembers being happy once. He remembers when his parents had told him that his mother was pregnant, that he was going to have a baby brother. He remembers being four years old and pressing his hand against his mother’s swollen belly, feeling Alfred kick, and thinking that all of his four year old problems were solved. He was new to the United States then and was only in preschool, but he was often shunned for one reason or another, usually his accent, and he was almost always alone. His black and white world was all the grayer for loneliness, but the promise of a little brother gave him hope and he remembers now how he could scarcely wait for the baby to be born and be big enough to play with.

And soon, though not soon enough for Arthur, they were piling into the car, headed for the hospital. His mother was panting and trying to breathe at regular intervals in the front passenger seat, while his father was in such a rush that he almost forgot to buckle Arthur in his car seat.

At the hospital, Arthur had sat at the nurses’ station while his mother was in labor and the admitting nurse played little drawing games with him on sheets of paper she kept pulling out of her printer. His father came out of the delivery room occasionally to check on him and tell him everything was going well. Each time Edward left, he kissed Arthur’s ash blond hair and smiled and left Arthur breathless with anticipation for his new sibling.

In Arthur’s four year old mind, Alfred had taken forever to be born, but in reality, his mother’s labor had been quite easy and gone very smoothly and Alfred was out and screaming his newborn head off in the span of only a few hours.

Then, finally,  _ finally _ , a different nurse came and smiled a big smile at Arthur, told him “You’re a big brother now!” and scooped him up in her arms and carried him to the room where his mother, father, and new little brother were waiting. Arthur had wriggled in the nurse’s embrace with excitement. She set him down and he ran to his mother and jumped up on her bed and crawled over her, very gently, so he could see what was in the tiny bundle resting on her chest.

And it was at that moment, ten year old Arthur remembers so clearly, that his life had been ruined.

A smile had spread over his own four year old face as he gazed down at the baby, at tiny, tiny Alfred, so squishy. He’d lost his breath when the baby opened his eyes and they were… blue… and the baby’s skin was pink… and he was wrapped in green blanket and… and… Arthur looked up and around and the world was suddenly so different from what it had always been and from then on Arthur’s world was full of color, for which Arthur, being only four, had no vocabulary. It just so happened to be the 4th of July and Arthur got to see fireworks bursting on the skyline out the window, really see them, for the first time.

Ten year old Arthur remembers the warm feeling that came with the color, the instinctual knowledge that kept him from being frightened at the time. He knew it was Alfred who had triggered this change, but his four year old mind had rationalized that this must just be the effect that younger brothers everywhere had. At the time, he knew nothing of soulmates and simply thought of Alfred as the best thing that had ever happened to him, just like his four year old self had known he would be.

For four more years, Arthur’s life was perfect. He watched Alfred grow in spectacular hue and loved him more and more every day. They played together at every moment they could and Alfred often cried when he couldn’t be near his big brother, but was otherwise constantly attached to his side, usually quite literally. Arthur thought nothing of this, had never had another sibling, and so had nothing with which to compare his affection for Alfred. Everyone, including their own parents, very often remarked on how lucky it was that they got along so well.

So everyone was happy.

Until the day Arthur had started the third grade.

Arthur attended a very prestigious international elementary school and many of the students there were the fellow children of diplomats and ambassadors. This was much better for him than preschool, because almost everyone was from a different country and thus, had less ammunition against him for teasing and bullying. He still preferred to be at home playing with Alfred, now four, though.

Class had already started when one of the administrators opened the door and interrupted to introduce new students, a set of twins from Italy. Feliciano and Lovino. Arthur would remember them forever, especially Feliciano.

The fairer Italian twin had glanced shyly around the room and then suddenly lit up when he laid eyes on a German boy named Ludwig who was sitting a few rows to the left of Arthur. “Ve~ how come everything looks different?” he had gasped in awe, tearing his eyes away from Ludwig for only a moment to glance around at everything, and then fixing his eyes on the German boy again. A blush had risen quickly in his cheeks.

Arthur had watched as the teacher and the administrator exchanged a furtive glance and then he had looked at Ludwig, who was staring agape at Feliciano, his own face quite pink. Arthur was sharp. He knew something was going on, something felt wrong in the pit of his stomach and it was somehow confirmed when he looked over at Lovino, who was clearly very angry.

Thus began the lecture that shattered Arthur’s perfect world. He could hardly breathe as the teacher explained, in the most delicate and sanitized language, about soulmates and colors and how everyone in the world saw in black and white until they met their soulmate, at which point the world would light up in color. There was a quick, stilted explanation of color, which was obviously difficult for the teacher since most of the children had no idea what it was and had never seen it. The teacher had then expressed the importance of getting to know your soulmate at least a little before marrying them and Arthur could honestly not remember anything the teacher had said after that because with the word “marriage” came the realization that soulmates were a  _ romantic _ thing. Arthur’s eight year old brain had a very limited concept of what that was, but he knew enough to know that you were absolutely  _ not _ supposed to fall in love with and marry your own family.

His mind had instantly flashed to Alfred. He was still so small compared to Arthur, but beautiful and vibrant and Arthur realized in that moment just how much his whole world revolved around his little brother. As Alfred continued to grow, and with Arthur having the supposed benefit of being able to see color, the eight year old could see very clearly that while he himself took after their father, handsome with unkempt, dusty blond hair, bright green eyes, and a stern brow; Alfred obviously took after their mother, flawlessly gorgeous with hair that was soft like silk, though their mother’s was brown and Alfred’s was golden, and piercing blue eyes and matching, dazzling smiles. Alfred’s smile. That smile that Arthur lightly pecked every day like it was nothing and all this time it was… did that mean that…?

Arthur’s head had begun to spin with questions he didn’t even know the words to yet. A sense of dread and melancholy filled him, terror in the face of things he only had the vaguest notions of. In that moment, he would have given anything to be back in preschool, filled with loneliness and longing for a friend with all of his classmates hating him for the funny way he spoke because as awful as that feeling had been, it was so much better than this.

In that same moment, through all of the confusion and fear, eight year old Arthur knew one thing for certain: he could never, ever tell anyone.

In the darkness of his room, ten year old Arthur’s tears have either subsided or just run dry. He’s not sure which. He rolls over onto his back and hiccups as he stares up at the ceiling. He likes the darkness because the world becomes black and white for him again, which he pretends it is daily anyway.

His and Alfred’s parents are not especially religious, Arthur has found out from talking to some of his classmates, but they do attend Episcopalian services on Christmas Eve and Easter and sporadic Sunday mornings throughout the year at a church near their New York home. Arthur often has questions following these services, which Elizabeth answers very patiently and she has constructed an image of a good, just, and loving God in Arthur’s mind.

But this only causes him further anguish. How could a loving God do something like this to him? If God believes in goodness and justice, then how could He make it so that Arthur’s soulmate is his own little brother? Arthur wants to think that it was a mistake, but when he had desperately asked his mother if God could make mistakes, she had assured him that He could not, and so the only other conclusion that young Arthur can draw is that he is being punished for something. Even at ten years old, he finds this to be massively unfair since he cannot think of anything he has done which is so bad that it warrants a lifetime in his own private Hell.

It is thoughts like these which are burst by a knock on his door. “Arthur?” It’s his father. “Lad, are you alright?”

Arthur blinks and quickly rubs his hands over his face. “I’m fine,” he says as steadily as he can.  _ Please don’t come in _ , he begs silently. “Thank you.”

Edward opens the door to his son’s room, letting in shafts of light from the hallway and can immediately tell that Arthur has been crying, even if he hadn’t seen the tear streaks on his, puffy reddened face. The boy’s expression is one of abject misery. At ten years old. Opening the door further and entering the room with well-placed concerns about things like puberty and possible mental illness, Edward seats himself on the end of Arthur’s bed, close enough to reach out and place his hand on Arthur’s calf, patting it gently. “Artie, come now, lad, you’ve got to talk to one of us. Your mother and I love you and we are very concerned about you.”

Arthur pulls his leg away from his father’s comforting palm and throws his arm over his eyes. “I’m fine,” he insists. “Don’t worry about me.”

Edward sighs heavily. “Arthur, I know they gave your class a general talk about puberty last week and I know that they touched on the subject of soulmates when you were in third grade,” the school had felt it prudent to send home notes to all the parents of the children in Ludwig and Feliciano’s class, just in case any parents had strong feelings on the subject, “you may already be experiencing some of those changes and if you have any ques-”

“NO!” Arthur shouts before he can think better of it. The talk last week had mentioned very briefly, among all the other already horrifying changes, that some of the young students might start noticing some of their peers in a “new and special” way. Arthur is not an idiot. He had put the pieces together enough, even if the school nurse’s language had been extremely vague. Arthur had carefully checked himself for all the changes the nurse described and he has determined that it is not happening to him yet and so Alfred is still safe from him. “I mean… no. I’m not. Not yet.”  _ Not ever, _ he thinks. He’ll just become like Peter Pan and never grow up.

“Well then you have to tell me what actually is wrong, Arthur."

“Nothing,” Arthur groans.

Edward grabs his son’s wrists and pulls him unwillingly into a sitting position, so that he can look Arthur in the eyes. “Arthur, now, you know it’s wrong to lie. Particularly to your mother and I. We only want to help you, lad.” He frowns when Arthur looks away from him. “You barely touch your food, I’m quite certain you’re not sleeping well because we hear you whimpering at night.” Arthur flinches at that. “Are you being bullied again? You almost never want to play with Alfred anymore and the two of you were so close…”

“So what if I don’t want to play with Alfred?” Arthur snaps, squeezing his eyes shut again.

Edward almost feels relief. So it’s sibling rivalry, is it? He thinks of his own three brothers and smiles just a little. They were always at each other’s throats over everything and nothing. This is perfectly manageable. “Are you jealous that we have been giving him so much attention lately?”

_ Yes _ , Arthur thinks. It could be the perfect cover. He’s only jealous of the attention Alfred has been getting for being able to see color. “Yes,” Arthur mumbles in a manner he hopes is convincing. “That’s it. And he’s annoying. And always shoving food in his face. And he’s so loud. And messy,” it all starts spilling out, things about Alfred that sometimes get on Arthur’s nerves a little, of course, but he doesn’t really care because he just loves Alfred so much. “He never puts his toys away… and he breaks all of mine.” In a matter of seconds, Arthur’s little tirade snowballs out of control. “And! And he’s so clingy! Always looking up at me with those big blue eyes of his!” The word “blue” is past Arthur’s lips before he can stop it, but he clamps his hands over his mouth as if he could possibly take it back.

Two sets of green eyes widen at each other, one in shock, one in fear. Edward opens his mouth, but Arthur shakes his head violently back and forth.

“I--I mean…” he stammers, searching frantically for something in his mind to explain what he had just said.

“Arthur. How long have you been able to see color?” Edward asks calmly, but sternly.

Arthur looks down at his own fingers. “A long time,” he answers obliquely, hoping that his father will think he’s the same as they think Alfred is, that he was born seeing color.

“Well,” Edward says, “We’ll make an appointment with the neurologist for you in the morning. If you were born seeing color like Alfred, then we have to rule out any health complications.”

It could be so easy, Arthur thinks. He knows they are unlikely to find anything wrong with him physically, since he gained the ability to see color in the perfectly usual way. They would put him in the same category as Alfred: lucky. A miracle. Two boys born to the same parents who could see color from birth. No, not a miracle. An abnormality. And surely somebody somewhere in the world would want to run all kinds of tests on them and… Arthur looks up at his father with such sadness that Edward audibly gasps. Arthur loves his parents and telling them his terrible secret would hurt them. A lot. But it’s only been two years since Arthur found out and he thinks of all the years he still has left in his life. On instinct only, he knows he won’t survive being completely alone and isolated like this and he doesn’t really want to lie. He won’t be able to keep up the lie forever, not by himself, and if Alfred is going to stay safe from him then he will need help.

Edward reaches out his hand and places it on his son’s cheek. “Arthur, it’s alright. I know the doctors can seem frightening, but you’re a very brave boy and--”

“No.”

“Arthur. We have to make sure nothing is wrong with your brain, that you don’t have any tumors. Remember when I explained about Alfred?”

“You don’t have to take me to the doctor, there’s no reason to.”

Edward furrows his eyebrows at Arthur. “What are you saying, lad? That you’ve met your soulmate?”

Arthur draws in a heavy, shuddered breath and nods.

It’s obvious enough to Edward that this is causing his son a significant amount of distress, though he cannot quite fathom why. Even soulmates who meet as children are usually quite happy about it. “When?” he asks. “Did you meet them at school? Did they move away? Is that why you’re so upset?”

“It happened when I was four,” Arthur mumbles, hoping his father will catch on without him having to actually confess his awful secret aloud.

“At your preschool?” Edward assumes. “Well, that’s alright, lad. If they’re still in the area, we can arrange for you to see them and if not, you can write emails to each other and have phone calls for now and we’ll make sure that you get to see each other as much as you can.”

“No!” Arthur cries, feeling panic rise up in his chest and cut off his air supply. “I don’t want to see them! I don’t want to see them ever again!”

Edward’s concern deepens. “Is it one of the children who bullied you, Arthur?”

Tears that Arthur had thought were dried up for the evening return with a vengeance. “You don’t understand!” he wails. “You just don’t get it! It’s  _ Alfred _ !” He wrenches himself from his father’s stunned stare and flops backward onto the mattress, shaking with sobs once more.

Arthur’s confession effectively wipes Edward’s mind for a moment. When thoughts come flooding back in, the first is that Arthur is young, was even younger when it happened, and so he must have made a mistake. “Are you certain, lad? Because--”

Arthur sits up, but doesn’t meet his father’s eyes. “We were at the hospital and the nurse came and got me and brought me into the room with you and Mum and Alfred and I climbed over her and I looked at him and he opened his eyes and looked at me and his eyes were blue and then I-- and then the world was-- and I saw fireworks in the sky and--” It all comes tumbling out in a jumble, but when Arthur finally looks at his father, he can tell he got the gist. Tears stream down his face with abandon.

“Ah,” is all Edward says, now having to adjust his previous theory that Arthur had simply been confused or made a mistake.

“And… and then in third grade, when they told us…” Arthur continues, trying to fill the silence. “I knew it was wrong. I know it’s wrong. But Mum said God doesn’t make mistakes and I knew I couldn’t tell anyone and I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! For whatever I did to get punished! I’m sorry!” Arthur loses his words to the sobs then.

In that moment, more than any other thing, Edward’s heart breaks for his oldest child. He pulls Arthur to his chest and holds him more tightly than he ever has before. “No,” he murmurs, kissing Arthur’s hair, so like his own, “It’s not your fault. Artie. It is not your fault. No one has control over who their soulmate is. We will figure this out, but it is not your fault.”

Arthur’s fingers curl into fists in the cloth of his father’s shirt. He sniffles, inadvertently wiping his tears on the soft fabric.

Edward strokes his hands against his son’s back until the crying subsides, feeling deeply pained himself as he thinks of how Arthur has kept this to himself for two whole years. “You’re a very good, brave boy, Arthur. I love you very much.”

A little bit of relief floods through Arthur; his biggest fear had been that his parents would hate him, would think he was disgusting and a sinner. He pulls out of his father’s tight embrace and lets him wipe away his tears.

“Arthur,” Edward begins very seriously, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I’m going to have to tell your mother.”

Arthur’s eyes go wide in fear once more. “No! Please! Please don’t!”

Edward leans forward and kisses Arthur’s forehead. “She’ll understand too, Arthur. Just as I do. We need to help you. And Alfred. We need to find a solution for this. She and I can do that for the two of you if we work together. We are your parents and we love you.”

Arthur relaxes somewhat at his father’s words. He nods.

Edward hugs his son close again, but releases him after only a moment. “Just remember, Arthur. This is not your fault. You did the right thing by telling me. I am very proud of you for being so brave.” He ruffles Arthur’s hair and rises from the bed. “Go to sleep now, but don’t worry. We will figure this out.”

His father’s voice sounds so steady and sure that Arthur believes him wholeheartedly and for the first time in a long time, he feels a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He lies back on the bed and closes his eyes. Arthur hears his father leave the room, the door remaining slightly ajar. Keeping his eyes closed, he listens as his mother brings Alfred up the stairs a few minutes later and put him to bed in the room across the hall from Arthur’s.

Arthur can faintly make out his mother singing Alfred his favorite lullaby, then a moment of quiet, and then he hears Alfred’s voice call, “Arfur! Arfur! Kiss me goodnight! Kiss me goodnight!” Arthur’s eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move except to turn his head toward the door where a shadow about his father’s height moves in front of the crack in the door, shutting it.

“Arthur is already asleep, Alfie,” Arthur hears his father say. “Hush now, you don’t want to wake him.”

There’s a sudden pain in Arthur’s chest shortly after his father’s words and it’s so acute it forces him to release a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

After another moment, Arthur hears his parents in the hallway.

“Edward, what’s going on? Why can Alfred not have a kiss from his brother? Is Arthur ill?” Their mother sounds very worried and upset.

Arthur hears their father sigh. “Arthur’s fine, Lizzie, but there’s something we need to talk about.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter picks up right after this one and I would have just kept going with it, but I get sorta weird about chapter lengths and whatnot so, please just bear with me!
> 
> Please comment if you liked it and let me know what you think! Kudos are nice too!


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